Please Try to Never Grow Up
by CinderellaAtTheBall
Summary: A series of drabbles about parenthood/children (all canon, most likely). - 1. Ron and Hermione go for ice cream with their kids - 2. Lily and James welcome baby Harry - 3. Narcissa tries to get through to Draco - 4. Molly has some tough news for Ron regarding the World Cup - 5. Albus and Lily enjoy an autumn tradition
1. Ron, Hermione, Rose, Hugo

_Written for the Through the Universe Challenge at The Golden Snitch Forum (Beauxbatons, Guinefort, 172. Hugo Granger-Weasley)._

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**Ice Cream and Innocence**

"I just want _all_ the ice cream," Ron announced as he, Hermione, and their two children headed out for some dessert. "I'm _starving_."

"You can't have _all_ of it, Daddy, you have to save some for us, 'member?" said Hugo, clinging to his mother and looking nothing short of scandalized.

"Daddy won't eat all the ice cream, Hugo, don't worry," Hermione told him, ruffling his hair gently.

"But he always eats so much!" Rose fretted. She had been skipping happily alongside her parents, but now she stopped and stared at them with great concern.

Ron and Hermione shared a look.

"She's right about that, you know," Hermione said with a smile and a shake of her head.

"It's a gift," Ron insisted.

"Uh huh. Or a curse," Hermione retorted.

"Mum says I'm still growing," Ron pouted, and Hermione laughed out loud.

"You're thirty years old, Ronald!"

Ron just shrugged at that.

...

The ice cream parlor was a cool escape from the oppressive heat. The Weasley-Granger family stepped inside with sighs of relief.

Hermione pulled off her sun hat and shook out her brown curls, while Rose immediately ran over and pressed her nose against the case that held the various ice cream and frozen yogurt flavors. Hermione took a step towards her daughter, about to call her back, when Ron put his hand on her arm.

"She'll be alright, 'Mione," he murmured. Hermione nodded, but kept her eyes fixed on her daughter all the same.

They settled into the queue behind a rather bossy woman who was yelling at the young employee about her order.

"I asked for strawberry frozen yogurt, not vanilla frozen yogurt with strawberries on it!"

"Sorry, ma'am," the girl, who couldn't have been much older than sixteen, squeaked.

"I asked you to do one thing. One thing! I've never seen such appalling service." And with that, the agitated customer swept out of the shop.

Hermione's heart went out to the poor, harried girl, who now appeared to be on the verge of tears.

"Tell you what, I'll take that frozen yogurt," she said kindly, and the girl flashed her a shaky smile.

"There's no need to do that, ma'am."

"It's fine. One less order to worry about, right?" She turned to Hugo and Ron. "And what would you boys like?"

"Chocolate!" Hugo exclaimed.

"Chocolate ice cream?" Hermione prompted, and her son nodded eagerly. "One scoop of chocolate, then. In a cup, please, that's far less messy when a four year old is involved."

"And I'll take two scoops of peanut butter ice cream in a cone," Ron said.

"Rose?" Hermione said. "What would you like?"

"I want to try the cotton candy flavor!" her daughter said excitedly.

"Alright, one scoop of cotton candy in a cup for her as well."

The girl nodded, her face scrunched up in concentration. "So two scoops of peanut butter in a...cup—"

"Cone," Ron interrupted. Hermione elbowed him, and he winced. "Sorry. Cup or cone is fine."

"Two scoops of peanut butter in a cone, and one scoop each of cotton candy and chocolate, both in cups for the kids?" The girl seemed less anxious now.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed.

"Coming right up!"

...

The four of them sat at one of the small, bubblegum pink-colored metal tables and ate their ice cream happily. Hermione savored each bite, while Hugo and Ron practically gulped theirs down. Like her mother, Rose took her time as well, frowning a little after each spoonful.

"Something wrong, Rose?" Hermione asked gently.

"I'm trying not to get an ice cream headache," Rose explained matter-of-factly.

Hermione laughed. "I see."

Ron leaned over and peered into her empty cup. "All finished there, 'Mione? Want some more?"

"Oh...no, thanks," she said quickly. Seeing his crestfallen face, and knowing exactly why he had asked, she added, "You're welcome to order another, though."

Ron grinned and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "That's my clever wife. How'd you know—?"

"Because I _know_ you," Hermione said. She rolled her eyes but was unable to keep from smirking slightly. Food really was Ron's weakness, and it wasn't at all unusual that he would go for seconds.

Hugo started to cry. "Mumma," he wailed. Hermione looked over and saw that he had spilled the last of his now-melted ice cream onto his favorite dinosaur t-shirt. She quickly pulled out her wand and cleaned it up, smiling at Hugo as she did so.

"No worries, love. See? All better now."

Ron returned with his second helping of ice cream (butterscotch this time) and began to enthusiastically dig in. Hermione coughed and pushed a napkin towards him.

He picked it up and smiled gratefully at her. Hermione was relieved that he didn't try and speak—she'd had a few words with him about talking with his mouth full and he seemed to be doing a lot better, thankfully. She didn't want her children to pick up the bad habit.

"I'm a giraffe!" Hugo announced suddenly. Rose giggled.

"No, you're not," she told her brother.

"Am too!"

"Alright, that's enough," Hermione cut in. "Hugo, does that mean you're going to start eating more veggies? Maybe some leaves and grass, too?"

Hugo made a face. "I don't wanna be a giraffe no more."

"Anymore," Hermione corrected. She looked down at him fondly. "That's good, because we like you just the way you are."

...

Ron finished a short time later. The quartet trooped out of the shop and began to walk home. Hermione kept quiet, content with watching the rest of her family interact. She loved how Ron teased Hugo and debated with Rose.

"Daddy," she heard Hugo ask, with all the seriousness of a four-year-old with a very important question, "how do you know so much about stars and space?"

"Well, at Hogwarts, they made us learn about all that in a subject called…" Ron paused dramatically, "_Astronomy._"

Hugo looked at him in wonder, and Hermione had to stifle a laugh behind her hand. She knew how much her husband enjoyed having a captive audience, and Hugo was always a very good listener.

They continued home in this fashion, with Ron regaling the children with increasingly more bizarre stories about his time at Hogwarts and his aptitude in various subjects. Though Hermione was sorely tempted to intervene from time to time, she decided to let it be. One day, Rose and Hugo would be old enough to see through his tall tales (Rose was already quite skeptical for her age), but for now, she was content to just let them be kids.

* * *

Word count: 1,095

_A/N: Thoughts welcome! _


	2. Lily, James, Harry

_Written for the 100 Quotes of Life Challenge (4. "Look—look! It's—it's a boy—look!")._

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**It's a Boy!**

"Look—look! It's—it's a boy—look!"

James is acting as though he had no idea they were having a boy, or perhaps he just wasn't prepared to believe it until he saw it with his own eyes.

Lily laughs shakily, exhausted from labor yet delighted by the sight of the swaddled infant in her arms. "He's beautiful," she whispers.

James wrinkles his nose. "I don't think I'd go _that_ far, Lils."

Lily swats his arm playfully. "Afraid he'll grow up to be better-looking than you?"

"No." He crosses his arms and huffs.

Lily grins. "Oh, you so are, James."

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_A/N: This is my very first 100-word drabble. I hope it turned out okay! Also, feel free to let me know if you have any requests!_


	3. Narcissa, Draco

_Written for Hogwarts Challenges and Assignments - Term 11, Assignment 3: __**Magical Law and Government, Task 8: write about outdated ideals.**_

_Also written for the Through the Universe Challenge at The Golden Snitch Forum (Beauxbatons, Guinefort, 2. Malfoy Manor)._

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**Beyond Her Control**

Narcissa doesn't look up when Draco walks into the grand sitting room of Malfoy Manor. She merely continues to swirl her spoon around in her pale blue teacup. "You're late."

"I'm aware, Mother," her son says stiffly, taking a seat with equally rigid movements. A house elf scurries over with a cup of tea for him, but he doesn't pick it up.

Narcissa sniffs and takes a dainty sip of tea. "_She's_ made you late, hasn't she?"

He arranges his features into a careful mask. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Narcissa sets down her cup, eyeing him warily. "Do you really think your father and I don't know who it is you're seeing all these nights?"

"If you do, Mother, why haven't you said anything?" Draco leans back in his chair slightly and stares at Narcissa with a look that is vaguely challenging. "Why hasn't Father? He can write letters, can he not?"

"I suppose we thought you'd get it out of your system soon enough." Narcissa sips her tea again. "After all, your father was much the same way when he was your age."

"I'd rather not think about that, thank you, Mother."

"He had many dalliances of his own," Narcisses presses on, ignoring her son, "with the same sort of...undesirable people."

"She isn't—"

"She comes from a family of blood traitors, Draco, do you really think that makes her any better?" Narcissa picks up her spoon and whisks it around in her cup again just to give her hands something to do. "Her kind would see our blood sullied. You cannot continue to see her."

A muscle twitches in Draco's jaw. "I'm afraid you can't control me, Mother. I'm not that scared, obedient little boy anymore."

"Your father—"

"Is in Azkaban. There is not much he can do to enforce his will from there," Draco says coldly.

"You will not interrupt—"

"I believe I just did."

Her features harden. "So this is what is has come to, then? My son, my only child, spits in the face of all we have ever taught him?"

"The old ways are just that, Mother," Draco replies tonelessly. "Old. Outdated, one might even say."

"Well, if that is all you have to say—"

"It is," is Draco's simple response.

Narcissa stands gracefully and points to the door. "Then there is no legitimate reason for you to be here. Out." The softness of her voice belies the cold fury coursing through her.

Draco has gotten to his feet as well, scraping his chair against the sleek hardwood floor with a screech and earning himself an icy glare. His expression unreadable, he stalks away, but stops just as he is about to pass into the large foyer. His grey eyes, so like his father's, are stormy when he turns to look back at her.

"While it is admirable that you have clung to your ideals for so long, Mother, those sentiments are dying out. It is my sincerest wish that you one day realize that, and welcome Ginevra with open arms. Until then, however, I will consider us estranged."

Narcissa only nods, once, but his words have struck her like a blow to the face. As soon as the front door slams behind him, she collapses back into her chair and sobs. She has just lost the most precious thing in her life — and what is worse is that she _let him_ go. And for what?

Not for the first time, she wonders if she has been too harsh, too unyielding. Though she wanted the Dark Lord vanquished, she isn't ready for the status quo to be dismantled so unceremoniously. She knows Lucius would have stood by her actions, praised her even, but if she has done the right thing, why does everything feel so _wrong_?

She wipes her eyes carefully and pushes her shoulders back. She will visit Lucius tomorrow. He always knows just what to say to keep her morals from crumbling. After that, she will figure out what to do about her son.

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Word count: 676


	4. Molly, Ron

**Asking For the Moon **

The rhythmic clink of Molly's knitting needles had almost lulled her to sleep when she heard the patter of footsteps and an urgent shout. She jostled herself to alertness reluctantly. It had only been a matter of time, she supposed, before one of the kids came looking for her. At least she'd gotten a little time to herself, a rare feat these days.

"Mum? Mum!"

"In here!" Molly called back. Ron scurried into the sitting room, fiery hair tousled, and bounded over to her. She turned to her youngest son with a tired smile. "Yes, Ronnie, dear?"

"Can we go to the World Cup, Mum, please?" the nine-year-old panted, his eyes wide. "Bill says the tickets have just gone on sale."

Molly's smile drooped, and she set down her needles and the half-completed forest green scarf so that she could fully focus on the boy. "I'm sorry, dear," she said, reaching out and stroking his hair into place gently, "but the tickets are too much money."

"But it's Quidditch, Mum!" Ron said, as though Molly didn't know what he was talking about. "The Quidditch World Cup!"

"I know, dear, it would be very fun to go, but we can't, and that's that."

It wasn't as though she and Arthur hadn't thought about it — hadn't stayed up late looking over their budget to see if they could trim any costs, hadn't contemplated selling off some heirlooms to try and offset the price of tickets. In the end, however, they had decided that it just wasn't feasible. Not only were the tickets expensive, but Arthur would have to take time off from work...and they didn't even have a proper tent to use, either. Other families could probably swing the whole thing with very little trouble; for them, Ron may as well have been asking for the moon.

"It could be an early Christmas present," Ron pleaded, his earnest expression all but breaking Molly's heart. "And—and my birthday present, too!"

Molly sighed. "That's a lovely thought, Ronnie, but I'm afraid we just can't afford it this time." She tried to inject a cheery note into her voice as she added, "Maybe next time, hmm?"

Ron scuffed his toe against the floor. "Being poor stinks. We never get to do _anything_," he mumbled.

In that moment, Molly wished more than anything that she could give him what he wanted. She got to her feet and looked directly into Ron's eyes. "Look, dear, your father and I do the best we can for you kids. While I know that it isn't always much, at least we'll always have each other."

Ron nodded, but his face was still glum. "Yeah, yeah, I know."

"In just a few years, you'll be off to Hogwarts and you'll have these feelings again," Molly continued, maneuvering the stocky boy into a hug. "Some of the other children will have much nicer things, or go on really fancy holidays, but you know what? They probably don't have nearly as much fun with their families."

"_Alright_, Mum, I get it." Ron pulled away, his ears red. "You don't have to go on about it." And with that, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek and hurried upstairs.

Molly shook her head and returned to her knitting, lost in thought. Although she and Arthur tried to provide a loving environment for their children, there were times like this when she worried that it just wasn't enough. That it would _never_ be enough. She only hoped that one day, her children would understand the sacrifices she and Arthur had made over the years, and realize that while they may not have given them the moon, they gave them something far better: a strong sense of family.

* * *

Word count: 626


	5. Harry, Ginny, Lily Luna, Albus

**MC4A**

**Fall Bingo: **C4 (rake)

**Word count:** 500

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**An Autumn Tradition**

Harry set down the rake and looked triumphantly at the pile of leaves he had accumulated. Ginny had bet that he couldn't clean up the leaves without magic, but he had just proved her wrong.

Suddenly, a gust of wind scattered his hours of hard work. "Damn it!" he grumbled, adjusting his glasses and preparing to pick up the rake again.

He heard his wife's telltale laugh behind him and turned to find her holding Lily Luna's hand. "Don't worry, I saw it before it all blew away," she said. She pulled out her wand and flicked it, causing the leaves to gather themselves into a heap again.

Harry chuckled and gave her a quick peck on her still-warm cheek. "Brilliant. Didn't I tell you I could do it?" He then knelt before his daughter and asked, "How would you like to jump in those leaves, Lil?"

She let out a gasp of excitement. "Can I, Daddy?"

He grinned. "You sure can. But you'll have to wait for your brothers."

Lily poked out her bottom lip. "Fine."

Harry straightened up and looked at Ginny. "Any idea where the boys have gotten to?"

"James doesn't want to come outside," she said, tightening the purple scarf around her neck. "Said something about being too old for leaf jumping since he's nearly old enough for Hogwarts. Albus, on the other hand, indicated an interest. I'll go and grab him."

A few minutes later, she returned with Albus, and the fun began. Each of the youngest Potter children took a running jump and landed in the bed of dry, crunchy leaves. Both giggled madly and proclaimed that they wanted to do it again, so Harry "reset" the pile and they went again. And again. And again. Far from being annoyed by the repetition, however, Harry was ecstatic. This was the childhood he'd never had, and it brought him immense joy to see his children so happy.

Ginny took his hand. "They look like they're having a blast," she whispered.

Another blast of wind eradicated the neat mound once more, but by that time, Lily and Albus had lost interest in jumping in it and were instead having what they called "a leaf fight." Harry wasn't entirely sure, but he thought that Lily might be winning based on her satisfied smirk.

"They do, don't they?" he said, gazing fondly at them. He savored the sights and sounds of their playing, tucking them away for the nights when the nightmares plagued him.

Ginny wrapped her arms around him. "I love watching you play with them, Harry. You're such a good father."

Harry's eyes misted slightly, and he cleared his throat before saying, "Thanks, Gin."

"You're welcome," she said, pulling away and flashing him a smile that still made his stomach do somersaults. "You want to have a go at the leaves, too? I'll fix them up for you."

Harry's face lit up. Despite being thirty-four years old, he couldn't refuse the opportunity. "I would love that."


	6. Alice, Frank, Neville

**Simpler Times**

Alice hummed as she slowly brought a pot of water to boil. She didn't often have the luxury of cooking dinner, but she had been allowed to leave work early that day. As Frank wasn't due home for another half hour, however, she wanted to time the food so that it would be nice and warm for him.

"All right, Neville," she told the chubby toddler seated at the table, "now Mummy is going to put the pasta in the water."

"Patta! Patta!" Neville repeated delightedly.

"That's right," she cooed, dropping the uncooked pasta into the pot. "We're having pasta. Yum!"

"'Um!" Neville echoed, a big smile plastered on his face.

Alice couldn't help but smile back. Her son was such a happy little boy, and he brought so much joy to her and Frank's lives. He made life seem a little less bleak, and they were both eternally grateful for that.

She busied herself now with making a red sauce for the pasta, stopping every so often to show Neville an ingredient or explain what she was doing in simple terms. She knew he couldn't understand most of what she was saying, but she enjoyed watching him try to mimic some of the words nonetheless.

"Tomato," she said, slowly and clearly, holding one up for him to see.

Neville gurgled something that sounded like "dough-ma-dough," and she laughed.

"Close enough," she said. A quick glance at the clock elicited a gasp. "Oh, love, Mummy's got to focus on the food now. We're running out of time — this needs to be done before Daddy gets home!"

Neville seemed especially excited about one word she had just spoken. His eyes lit up and he exclaimed, "Dada!"

Before long, the sauce was bubbling away on the stove, and just as she was pouring the sauce over the pasta, Alice heard the front door open, signalling that her husband was home.

"Alice?" he called.

"In the kitchen with Neville!" she called back.

Moments later, Frank appeared in the doorway, looking exhausted. As soon as he saw Alice, however, his face split into a wide grin.

"That smells delicious, love," he said, kissing her cheek. Then he turned to Neville and planted a kiss on his head. "And how's my little boy?"

"Dada!" Neville said happily.

"He's good," Alice answered, spooning the food into two dishes. "Augusta said he was a perfect angel, as always, and he's been in a very good mood since I got home."

She looked on as Frank swung their son into his arms and began to coo at him. It was always incredible to watch her Auror husband shed the horrors of whatever he had faced at work that day to be present with Neville. Alice didn't know how he did it. She knew firsthand how difficult it was to switch off the Auror persona, but Frank made it look easy. At least she had a good deal of time to perfect that art herself.

Or so she thought.

* * *

Word count: 501


	7. Arthur, Molly, (Fred)

_This fic portrays the aftermath of a canon character death. _

* * *

**i**** lit a fire with the love you left behind**

Arthur falls to his knees next to Fred's lifeless body, sobbing quietly. His son — his handsome, clever, fun-loving son — is gone.

He should have been ready for this outcome. After that close shave with George...he should have been more prepared.

But he wasn't. He wasn't prepared for the grief to hit him like a tsunami, leaving him scrambling for purchase in a world that already feels a little less bright.

Beside him, Molly wails, the tears pouring down her cheeks just as quickly as they pour down his. He pulls her to him and she presses her face against his chest. It doesn't do much to muffle her cries, however, and within minutes, his robes are soaked through.

"Did we do the right thing, Molly?" he whispers brokenly. His lips brush hair that is already greying and will likely grey even more now. "Letting our children fight?"

Molly's sobs cease for a moment as she considers his question. "I don't know, Arthur," she whimpers. "_I don't_ _know_."

Arthur doesn't need to look around to know that the two of them are the recipients of pitying stares. He can practically feel the commiseration rolling off of them.

It doesn't make him feel any better.

Molly lets out an especially loud keen and he begins to rub tiny circles into her back the way he watched her do to their children. He tries not to think about how she'll never get to do it for Fred again.

Someone sniffs and Arthur turns his head to find George standing there. George's face is pale and his eyes glisten with unshed tears. He looks as though his whole world has come crashing down around him.

With a pang, Arthur realizes that, in a way, it has.

He extends an arm towards George and pulls him into a hug, too. His son is trembling, and Arthur knows it has nothing to do with being cold and everything to do with trying to hold it together.

"It's all right, son," he says, his throat tight. "You can cry for him, too."

His words open up the floodgates, and soon George has joined his and Molly's public display of grief. A short while later, Ginny becomes a part of it, too. Then Bill and Fleur. Then Charlie. And finally, Ron, Harry, and Hermione — though Harry doesn't stay.

The war isn't over yet, but Arthur doesn't want to dwell on how many more might die before it's all over. Instead, he focuses on letting his family's love bolster him. It's not going to be easy continuing on without Fred, but he's going to make sure that his son's death was not in vain.

* * *

Word count: 449


	8. Lily, James, Harry (II)

**Coming Home to You**

James smiled at the sight that greeted him as soon as he walked through the door of the cottage. Lily was sitting on the couch, cradling Harry in her arms. Her red hair fell in front of her face as she cooed down at him, and James didn't think he had ever seen such a beautiful tableau.

"I'm home," he said quietly, prompting a giggle from Lily.

"I know," she whispered back.

He moved to sit beside her, adjusting his glasses so that he could peer down at the baby. "How's our little man?"

Lily smiled. "He's good. He was a bit fussy earlier but he calmed down quick enough."

James leaned over and kissed her cheek. "And how's Mummy?"

"Mummy's good too. Better now that Daddy's home, though," she winked. James wrapped his arms around her, careful not to wake their sleeping child, and she shifted her weight so that she was leaning against him. "Mmm, that's more like it."

"Yeah?" he murmured in her ear, delighting in the goose pimples that appeared on her arms. The fact that he could still elicit such a response from her was intoxicating. He sighed happily. "I love our life, Lils."

She twisted slightly to meet his gaze. "I love it, too, James. The three of us are a perfect little family."

"That we are," he agreed, cupping her cheek in his hand. Her fair skin looked almost pale against his darker tone. "Do you want me to take a turn holding Harry?"

"Do you mind? My arms are killing me." Lily carefully transferred their son over to him, and he cuddled Harry's tiny body close to his chest. "Aww, he looks just like his daddy."

James nodded. Harry had his complexion and the tufts of hair that had grown in so far were just as jet-black and unruly as his own locks. "Well, in all but the eyes, yeah. He's got his mum's gorgeous eyes."

"Who do you think he'll take after personality-wise?" Lily wondered.

"I don't know about you, but I'm definitely hoping he takes after you, Lils," James said, grinning.

She laughed loudly at that. "Oh, good, we're on the same page, then."

* * *

Word count: 364


	9. Angelina, Roxanne

_Written for Hogwarts Challenges and Assignments - Term 11, Assignment 10: __**Ritual and Ceremonial Magic, Task #1: write a fic featuring a parent and their daughter. **_

_Word count: 495_

* * *

**Spider Fears**

"Mummy!"

Angelina heard Roxanne's frantic shriek and immediately raced into her daughter's bedroom. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"There's a great big spider on my wall!" the little girl sobbed, and sure enough, Roxanne's finger was pointed directly at the largest spider Angelina had ever seen. It was nearly the size of her palm and had thick, hairy legs. Angelina was instantly reminded of Lee Jordan's friendly pet tarantula.

"It won't hurt you, Roxy," she said, making sure to keep her voice calm and even.

Roxanne wailed and hid her face under the covers. "Yes, it can! Fred said Teddy got bit by a spider once and he had to go to the hospital!"

Angelina stifled a smile. "To my knowledge, Teddy Lupin has never been bitten by a spider. I think Fred was probably messing with you."

"Was not!" Fred shouted from his neighboring room.

"What have I told you about eavesdropping, Freddie?" she called back, shaking her head.

"Sorry!" Fred yelled, not sounding apologetic at all. He had definitely picked that up from his father, she mused before turning her attention back to her daughter.

Roxanne's wide brown eyes and dark frizzy hair were now the only things visible over the edge of her pastel yellow blanket. "It's still there, Mummy!" she hissed.

"Yes, I can see that." Angelina sank onto the edge of the bed and gently stroked her daughter's hair. "Just try and ignore it."

"I can't!" Roxanne said tearfully. "It might bite me!"

"I really doubt it will bite you," Angelina insisted, "but if it's bothering you that much, I'll just take it outside. How does that sound?"

Roxanne gave her a look filled with wonder. "You can do that?" she asked, sounding as awed as if Angelina had just told her that she could have sweets for dinner for the rest of her life.

Angelina nodded vigorously. "I sure can. Removing spiders is like my superpower."

Roxanne let out a delighted giggle. "That's so _cool_!"

Angelina quickly summoned a clear glass and a piece of paper. She placed the cup over the spider as her daughter looked on, seemingly terrified and fascinated in equal measure. "You can do it, Mummy!" she cheered before diving under the covers again.

Having finally coaxed the creature onto the paper, Angelina hurried downstairs and out the front door. She released the spider onto a blade of grass, crumpled up the piece of paper, then headed back inside.

As she walked back towards Roxanne's room, her hand drifted towards her wand. While she could have used magic to immobilize or even get rid of the spider, she lived for those moments when she could model courage for her children.

"Is the big bad spider gone now?" Roxanne asked as soon as Angelina reentered her room.

Angelina smiled down at her. "The big bad spider is gone now," she confirmed.

A big, toothless grin finally appeared on the little girl's face as she said, "You're the best mummy _ever_."


	10. Luna, Rolf, Lorcan, Lysander

**Sandcastles and Scamanders**

Luna skipped along the beach, her two young sons close to her side. The sand was warm on her bare feet, and the ocean spray was a wonderful contrast to the heat of the African safari she and Rolf had been on just a day prior.

Her husband brought up the rear now, carrying a red checkered picnic blanket and plastic beach toys in a variety of bright colors.

The family trekked past several other beachgoing families until they reached an empty stretch of sand. There, Luna stopped and looked around.

"Perfect," she declared, smiling down at Lorcan and Lysander. She knelt and looked at each boy in turn. "Do you want to build a sandcastle for the Wonky Borabs?"

The boys gave identical vigorous nods.

"Here are your tools," Rolf said, laying them down in a neat pile. He touched Luna's hand briefly. "Alright if I take a short nap, love?"

"Of course," she said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "You must be ever so tired after yesterday's safari."

"I don't know how you're not," her husband laughed.

Luna spread her arms wide and twirled around a few times. The skirt of her yellow sundress lifted with the movement.

"Our boys give me all the energy I need," she said simply.

...

Lorcan grabbed a bright green bucket from the pile of toys and held it up. "Bucket first, Mama?"

Luna leaned down and whispered, "Can I tell you a secret, Lorcan?"

"What?" he whispered back at a volume that was still rather loud.

"There's no real order to making a sandcastle. You can do whatever you want, and if you don't like it, you can always start over."

The little boy's eyes widened. "Cool!"

"What's cool?" asked Lysander, who had just wandered over. He was carrying a shell in his hand, and he proudly showed it to Luna. "Look, Mama, I found a shell!"

"That's beautiful, Lysander!" Luna exclaimed, turning the lavender shell over in her hands. "Look how the light catches it and makes it shine."

"What's cool?" Lysander asked again.

"It's a _secret_!" Lorcan said, sticking his little pink tongue out at his brother.

Lysander's bottom lip began to wobble. Luna, sensing a meltdown, plopped herself down right on the sand and held out her arms. "Come here, Lysander. You too, Lorcan."

The twins complied almost immediately. Lorcan settled under her right arm, while Lysander took her left.

"Let's be kind to each other, alright?" she said, stroking the long, pale blond hair that they had inherited from her. "In a world where you can be anything, be kind."

...

The sandcastle was slowly coming together. There was a first floor of sorts, created by placing several bucketfuls of sand close to each other. There was also a front door made up of a jagged grey shell that Lysander had found.

The boys were having trouble piling more sand on top, however. It kept crumbling down every time they tried.

After a quarter of an hour, Lorcan sat down with a soft thump and crossed his arms. "I give up, Mama."

"That's a silly thing to do," Luna said. "Just think of the marvelous creation you'll never get to enjoy because you gave up!"

"What about magic, Mama?" Lysander said thoughtfully. "Could you use magic to make the sandcastle?"

Luna ruffled his hair gently. "That's a very clever idea, my sweet boy, but that would take all the fun out of it, don't you think?"

Lysander thought for a moment. "I suppose so," he said at last.

Luna smiled. "I think I see your papa waking up over there. Maybe he can help."

...

Rolf suggested that the boys use wetter sand and more water. Luna watched as he patiently helped Lorcan pack down more sand at the base, then aided Lysander in building a turret to go on top.

Soon, there were four turrets, and Luna rejoined her family to help add little details like a stone pattern on the walls and stairs leading up one side of the castle.

She took a step back to survey their work, giggling at the beetle that was crawling over one of the turrets. "Magnificent!" she proclaimed, clapping her hands together.

"Magnificent indeed," her husband echoed, smiling fondly at her. "What do you think, boys?"

"I think it's awesome!" Lorcan exclaimed.

"Me too," Lysander agreed a little more quietly.

It wasn't perfect, Luna knew, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that they had made something all their own simply by working together. It was _theirs_, and no one could take that away from them.

* * *

Word count: 765


End file.
